MONDAY "IN" THE UNDERGROUNDRAILROAD (A Day In The Lounge) UNDERGROUNDRAIROAD FROM THE GIT-GO Good Monday everybody and welcome to Mondays "IN" the Undergroundrailroad. Today in the DU lounge we are serving home made
http://www.dianasdesserts.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/recipes.recipeListing/filter/dianas/recipeID/388/Recipe.cfm">Chocolate Eclairs. There is plenty of hot coffee in our bottomless pot !
So grab an
Eclair, and a cup of your favorite beverage and let's go check out the Monday daily.
______________________________ We've Come A Long Way Baby Oh where oh WHERE was Woman's Liberation in 1949? I was out driving with my mother a couple of days ago and it had dawned on me that I had never asked her HOW she learned to drive. Mom explained to me that she had to "ask" Dad's permission if she could learn to drive. Now, I was taken quite aback. "ASK PERMISSION?" She replied that she indeed asked his permission to drive and also asked him to teach her. Mom also explained that Dad had the most confidence in BUICKS. He felt they were very safe cars and well built. Back to the request for driving lessons, Dad said sure! On Sunday you'll learn how to drive. So Mom explained her enthusiasm that upcoming Sunday for her first driving lesson. During my childhood, Sundays were BIG days in our house and 1949 was no different. Mom and Dad would dress in their Sunday best. Now, Mom is getting behind the wheel of a 1949 Buick with high heels (GASP!) on, a cape dress and hat. Her first driving lesson would take place on a country road where there was very little traffic and lots of country fields. "Alright, what do I do first ?" Mom asks Dad. According to Mom, Dad told her to "just turn on the car and go"! Well, that's exactly what Mom did, put her foot on the gas peddle and drove right into a ditch. This was not going very well and besides, Dad didn't like being the driving instructor. He suggested professional driving lessons and to this day, Mom still keeps in her wallet her first driver's license. An archaic cardboard like paper, hand-written, that was issued to her. I asked her why she keeps it? She pulled out her just renewed computerized driver's license and compares it to the old one with no picture, Mom say's, "we've come a long way baby".
______________________________ Left to right: The Mighty Clouds of Joy The Best of the Mighty Clouds of Joy, The Dixie Hummingbirds, The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi SUNDAY SINGING: THE BLACK GOSPEL QUARTET by
Mark Anthony Neal PopMatters Columnist and Music Critic
Pops was part of that current of post-World War II migration, leaving his Thompson Georgia home in 1959, and ending up in Harlem with his sister, where he worked as a short order cook. As old-school and country as they come, Pops, negotiated the city with a small transistor radio, where he could at least hear the sounds of home -- the south that he left behind -- in the music of B.B. King, Jimmy Smith, Bobby "Blue" Bland, and most importantly, those great black gospel quartets of the late 1950s and 1960s. I was oblivious to most of this history as a small child, yet I still watched Pops sitting transfixed on Sunday mornings in our small tenement apartment's living room in the Bronx.
By then (the early 1970s), Pops was working 10 hours a day, six days a week at a combo drugstore/restaurant in Crown Heights Brooklyn (right on Nostrand Avenue) and traveling more than three hours a day roundtrip from the Bronx to Brooklyn. Pops was a real blur in my life those days, so Sunday mornings were the only time I had to share with him when I was young. Those Sundays were about him reconnecting with his humanity, as a non-educated, barely literate (though brilliant), working class Blackman who held no dreams except those he had for his wife and his young son. Sharing time with my father meant sharing time with his music, which inevitably meant hours of listening to the Soul Stirrers, the Highway QCs, the Swan Silvertones, the Swanee Quintet, the Dixie Hummingbirds, and especially, the voices of Joe Ligon and the Mighty Mighty Clouds of Joy. Pops was never much of a talker, and I've spent the better part of my adult life getting to know him and his history through this music he first shared with me 36 years ago. Ironically it is this very music that I have come to celebrate in my professional career, writing books and essays that Pops is incapable of even reading. This piece is a tribute to Pops -- A.C. as folks close to him call him -- and those great black gospel quartets that gave him and so many other folks the strength to build lives for themselves.
Though black gospel quartets can obviously be traced back to plantation life in the South (According to Alan young in his book Woke Me Up This Morning, the first reference to black gospel quartets was made in 1851), the "modern" quartets were born in the late 1920s and early 1930s with the emergence of groups like the Heavenly Gospel Singers (1934) and most notably, The Golden Gate Quartet (influenced by the Mills Brothers) of Norfolk, Virginia -- Norfolk was often referred to as the "home of the quartet". The intricate four-part harmonies that were the bedrock of the black gospel quartet tradition, were honed over centuries in the work songs that enslaved blacks incorporated into their daily activities as exploited laborers. These harmonies have always had a "public" visibility that connected them more to the secular world, though so many of the narratives were "other-worldly," which would also include visions of emancipation and a return to the "homeland." For example, lots of folks became aware of the Black Harmonic tradition in the 1870s via the Fisk Jubilee Singers, who performed "Christian" music for audiences around the globe as a means of raising money for Fisk University, one of the earliest Historically Black University and Colleges (HBUCs).
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The Boondock by Aaron McGruder
_______________ Questions of the Day 1. Who taught you how to Drive ?
2. Do you take Sunday Drives? If so where do you go?
3. Dinner Plans tonight?
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I'm outta! See you next Monday "IN" the Undergroundrailroad!
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